Three Hour Glucose Test: Waiting Around...

Friday I got a call from my doctor's office, early in the morning.  I failed my 1 hour glucose challenge test with a 174.  The cut off was 140.  The nurse called it "slightly elevated" but I'd call it high.  I'm no math major, but last time I checked 174 is a ways away from 140.  I immediately started to feel "funny."  This was the same morning that my loving husband went to the dentist, got a good report (something that rarely happens for him at the dentist) and to celebrate decided to purchase a bunch of sugary treats from the local bakery.  His farming cohorts got donuts... I got an oatmeal cookie.

And even though I got the devastating news that I was going to have to take the 3 hour glucose test, I still had to eat a little bit of that cookie. And as soon as I ate a few bites I started to feel "funny" again.  And irritable.

I'm the type of person that jumps the gun.  I immediately started to think about gestational diabetes and how I have it... and how much I hate hurting myself... and how much I hate getting my finger pricked... and how much I really love sugar.

So on Monday, bright and early, I went for the 3 hour test.  I had to starve myself starting at 12am.  At 11:30pm, Sunday night, I ate a little bit of cheese and went to bed.  I woke up and immediately felt hungry.  Great, I thought, here we go.  How am I ever going to last without eating a little something?

When I arrived at the doctors office, I was sent back to the lab and the vampire (I realize that vampire is not the correct term for this person's job, but it is easier to spell than the correct term) took my baseline.  Then she gave me the sugary glucose drink.  I had to down it in 5 minutes and then return to the lab in an hour. 

The first hour was uncomfortable.  I was no longer hungry.  I took a few small sips of water to get the fruit punch taste out of my mouth and to make my throat a little less sore.  We (my mom came with me in case I got sick) walked to the car, sat outside on a bench.  She read a book.  I read a book.  I went to the bathroom.  Apparently sugary drinks make my stomach hurt. 

Before I knew it was time for another blood draw.  Then it was more of the same.  The nice little vampire told me to come back in another hour.  I still wasn't hungry.  It was more of the same.  We walked to the car.  We sat on the bench outside.  We watched a new mom being wheeled out of the Women's Center next door.  My mom commented on how scary that feeling was... being allowed to carry your baby home for the first time. 

We read books.  I went to the bathroom.  Sugary drinks really do make my stomach hurt.

At 11:20 I went for the 3rd (of 4) blood draw.  The vampire and me were becoming good friends.  She debated on which arm to use and commented in disbelief at the bruise I had from Wednesday's blood draw.  She talked about how she was left handed just like me.  She commented on how our birthday's were just one day apart.  We even talked about her boyfriend a little.  Apparently he is a hypochondriac too.

She sent me away, only to return for my final blood draw in, you guessed it, an hour.  By this time my stomach was starting to feel better and I was getting a little tired.  Waiting is never fun and getting up as early as I did was probably starting to take its toll... and even though the book I was reading was interesting, it was not helping to make the time go faster.  I went to the bathroom for the fourth time that morning.  A friend texted me a little bit asking about acupuncture.  That helped to make the last hour go by quicker.

12:20pm I went back for the final draw.  Strangely, I felt like I had really accomplished something.  I expressed my concern of the test being positive to the Vampire.  I might be a masochist, but I'm far from ever being a sadist.  The thought of hurting myself is more than I can take and the idea of pricking my finger multiple times a day is just scary as hell.  She laughed.  She pointed out that knowing and controlling gestational diabetes is better than not.  She's right.  I still don't have to be happy about it though.

She told me that the office would call with the results in a couple of days.  I still wasn't hungry but I was ready to leave the doctor's office. 

Now I have to wait to see what's going on or what is not going on.  I'm hoping that I'm gestational diabetes free, but if not, I'd like to know so I can do what I need to do to keep the baby and myself healthy.

I expect to hear something tomorrow.  So stay tuned for updates...  Un-pricked fingers crossed for luck!

Baby Registries for the Anti-Social...

I've started creating baby registries.  I spent most of Tuesday night in a panic because it seemed almost every other pregnant person I knew has already created theirs. 
Let me preface this by saying I'm not a joiner.  It appears that the the husband is not a joiner either.  But a couple of weeks ago, against my nature, I joined www.thebump.com and ever since I've been regretting it.  Majorly.

The problem... they have this checklist and baby due date timeline (plus a lot of articles about post-partum crotch care that really freak me out).  Apparently we are well past the half-way mark.  Yikes.  And according to the checklist, I'm way behind.  I hate www.thebump.com.

According to www.thebump.com I should have already found a pediatrician and I should have already created registries.  I do have a pediatrician in mind, but I've not committed to anything yet.  Apparently you have the option of participating in orientation style classes at the pediatrician's office and I'd rather not.  I feel the same way about birthing classes. 

My birth plan:  get the baby out of me as safely as possible, with the least amount of damage possible, while I feel the least amount of pain possible and we all live to tell about it.  It is a good plan.

And yes, I'm open to all sorts of drugs.  Gas me in the parking lot if you have to.

But because the Husband and I have these personality defects that keep us from wanting to socialize with our peer group or any other group for that matter, I could not see myself walking around the local Toy's R Us with a registry gun picking out things that we think we might need for Little No Name while strangers come up and touch my every growing belly and congratulate us.

So I'm doing it online and surprisingly I'm loving it!  Although this registry process I think is turning me into some sort of communist or at the very least a socialist.  After researching strollers and play yards and 3-in-1 high chairs, baby swings, and baby gyms I think there should only be one choice and that's it. 

Why do they offer 14 different types of baby bottles?  Why is there 19 different types of diaper rash creams?  Why are there 5 pages or more of baby bathtubs on Target.com?

Nevertheless, I finally decided to do a registry at Target and Babies R Us (even though Target has a horrible return policy and the closest Babies R Us is about an hour away and most people just buy the baby what they want the baby to have, rendering the whole baby registry thing a little unnecessary) and www.babyli.st which allows you to add items from any website regardless of whether or not the store has a registry database (like Etsy or Serena & Lily).  I also like that if I happen to stumble upon something I'd like for Little No Name all I have to do is press a button on our toolbar and BAM! it's added.  So easy and I love it!  We even have our own web address so our friends and family can access it... http://babyli.st/loren-and-emilys-baby-list

I'm still working on them... but at least I'm not dragging Husband all over creation trying to figure out what we need.  This way, at home and on line, I can read what other people think about the items... people that have actually had children before and know what is good and what is a complete waste of time and money, all while in my pj's!

Week 24 Update:  The baby is doing great according to the doctors.  We had our monthly doctor's appointment on Wednesday.  Little No Name's got a strong heartbeat--160 beats per minute.  Right now I'm hoping that I haven't failed the Glucose Challenge test... because that would mean chugging more sugary drinks and getting stuck with needles for blood draws every hour on the hour for 3 hours and then possibly diabetes.  No thank you! 

She moves around a lot.  I seem to notice it more when I get still, which I'm told is normal.  According to What to Expect she weighs about a 1 1/2 pounds and is about as long as a standard letter.  I think that that must be an average.  Husband and I are short people, so I wouldn't be surprised if she not quite that long.

Dragons Hate Dogs, Just as Tigers Hate Cinnamon...

Let me start by saying, we're not Asian and neither one of us ascribe to the Chinese Zodiac... but lately I've been hearing about how great it is to be having a baby this particular Zodiac year.  For those of you not in Asia nor of the Asian persuasion, apparently having a baby during this year, the year of the Dragon, is a big deal.  Like a huge-run-out-and-get-pregnant-deal... that is, if you're Asian and/or ascribe the the beliefs of the Chinese Zodiac.

According to what little research I've done on the matter, having a Dragon baby means that the child will be successful, lucky, and an all-round winner!  People all over Asia having been rushing around trying to get pregnant so they too can have a lucky Dragon baby. 

Around the time that I was getting married, five years ago, I did some research on the Chinese Zodiac because I had heard getting married during the year of the Rooster was bad luck... so I did a quick check to make sure that we were, in fact, not getting married during an unlucky Rooster year.  We got married during the year of the Pig. 

By looking up this information, I learned that the Husband and I are both Dogs.  Being a Dog, I felt, was a good thing.  We are, according to the Internet, laid back, loyal, good tempered, smart... basically all the qualities you want in a good Lab.

So for about five years or so, I've not thought much about the specific Zodiac years.  After all, I knew about as much as I needed to know... the Husband and I were Dogs.  We married during a Pig year.  My parents are Monkeys and Roosters... I think my sister might be a Rat.  And our baby will be a lucky Dragon.

The bad news... Dragons hate Dogs, just as Tigers hate cinnamon.  I'm trying not to focus on this little tidbit of information.  I realize that just because it says that we are in for a rough ride, doesn't mean that it will happen. 

I fully expect for us to have our moments.  There will be days that she will hate us.  And for that matter, there will be days that I'm sure that we won't be so happy with her.  What I I'm sure about is that in the next few days I'll forget about all this non-sense.  In less than a month I'll be back at work and I can assure you the only dog I'll be worried about is Buddy...

And a lucky Dragon is a lucky Dragon even if it is raised by a pair of Dogs or a pair of Pigs or any of the other signs.... Right?

Baby, Baby, Baby: 22 Week Update...

Meet the baby... Isn't she cute? 

I've been really loving the whole pregnancy thing recently, minus the increased sense of smell.  The cantaloupe Husband brought home is currently stinking up the entire refrigerator... I don't see how anyone eats something that smells so bad!

Regardless, being pregnant recently hasn't been bad at all.  The baby is moving a lot, especially late at night.  And sometimes I can feel her bumping around in there on the outside, which is good because finally Husband can get in on the action... that is, when she cooperates.  According to the baby books and, of course, the Internet the baby can recognize light and dark and can even hear sounds... pretty cool huh?

This week I experienced my first irrational meltdown that I'm positive was hormone fueled.  Of all things, a conversation with my mother about baby bedding was the culprit that left me crying, off and on, for a good hour.  Baby bedding!  Husband thought it was the funniest thing ever... he'd mention bedding and I'd break down and in between wiping tears and sucking snot, I'd say, "I don't know what is wrong with me... I know I sound crazy!" and he'd just laugh-- at me.

But luckily that meltdown did help me make up my mind (a mind that has been anything but easy to make up recently) and I think I'm a little closer to committing to a bedding set.  I've decided to quit fighting my instincts and just go with where the pink and green leads me.

Now, if I could just find a maternity bathing suit that doesn't look like a car cover, I'd be in business!

Pregnancy Complaint, Number 556...

So lately I've had very little complaints about being in this "delicate" condition.  As soon as the-never-ending-morning-sickness abated, life has been pretty good and the complaining-- much to the Husband's pleasure and probably everyone elses'--stopped.

But just tonight as I walked into my freshly cleaned kitchen to get a glass of lemonade because I can't get enough lemonade these days, I realized that I'm tried of my super-human sense of smell.  Word on the street... pregnancy makes your ability to smell things like 100% stronger.  Let me just go on the record and say: I. AM. OVER. IT.

I have found that everything has a scent... everything!  And let me just say, very few things have a pleasing odor.  VERY. FEW. THINGS.

At this rate my year supply of trash bags is going to run out in the next few weeks as my new favorite request of Husband is, "Can you take the trash out?"

At this point offensive smells-- of any kind-- produce strange reactions in me that involve an almost "fight or flight" reaction.  Sometimes I get mad about the offensive odors and want to seriously injure the person or the thing responsible...most of these outbursts are aimed at close loved-ones, like poor Husband.  And then, sometimes I have the urge to run as far away from the odor as I possibly can... most of which are odors made from trashcans, nature, and strangers that wouldn't take kindly to my beating them with the heel of my hand or kicking them under the bed sheet while they laugh uncontrollably because farting in bed is supposedly funny.

So tonight, I did not attack the trashcan, but instead I quickly took myself to the safety of our living room and put in the 3rd request this week to the Husband to take out the trash.  He always takes it out too.

But what I don't understand, why would nature make it so pregnant people would get this added bonus of an increased sense of smell?  What purpose does it serve?  I don't see how being the first to realize that the person standing beside you in the checkout line neglected to bathe before anyone else is going to help create a strong and healthy baby. 

Let me just conclude by saying: the grocery store is a stinky, stinky place...

I'm Not Sure I'm Qualified to Answer That Question...

This morning I was watching an old re-run of "Designing Women."  It was the one where Quint, Mary Jo's son, was curious about where babies come from and that got me thinking... one day we will have to explain to Little No Name about how she came into being.

I imagine the conversation will go a little like this: "Well, Little No Name--you know you really need to pick a name for yourself by the way--when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much they take themselves down to the fertility doctor and he puts the baby in the mommy's stomach..."

Nursery 101...

So I'm ready to start tackling the baby's nursery.  For months now, that has been the last thing on my mind... and I was starting to worry that I'd never find the want or the motivation.  A few weeks ago, I felt like something was majorly wrong with me because my mother-in-law had picked out fabric and was talking about painting her crib for her house. Listening to her plans that she was making for my baby, well-- it made me want to turn inside out... just one more area that I'm defective in--parenting!  I knew I needed to get a crib and I knew that she would need certain items, but for the most part, I've been less than interested in turning the guest bedroom into a baby nursery.

I think this "lack of motivation" is a common problem with women who have undergone fertility treatments.  For months and years you start to think that you aren't meant to have babies and because of the nature of each cycle, you get your hopes up only to have them taken away-- and you have no physical way of controlling it... which is so frustrating.  So I think it is only natural that one's thought process tends to lean towards the idea of, "good things will be taken away from me" which creates a self-protecting mental construct:  Don't get too excited about this good thing because it may get taken away from you!

But I'm pressing forward and I'm finding myself increasingly interested in creating a nursery for the baby.  Here's what I do know:

1) I do not want to paint the nursery room.  Our house is brand new and the paint color in that room is neutral.  I was talking with my contractor over the holiday and he suggested keeping the color as is and when the baby is older and the house is older, painting then as she goes from baby to toddler.

2) I have a built-in desk in the nursery room that I would like to use as either a changing table or an organizational area for assorted baby items.

3) I want the nursery to have an elcetic feel that does not neccessarily scream: BABY'S ROOM! when you walk the door... meaning, I want a collection of new and antique furniture and I plan to use broad range of colors, rather than design around a certain theme.

Knowing these three important factors, I also would like to steer clear of overly-girlie decorations.  But that is easier said than done, as I am naturally attracted to pinks and greens and frilly, girlie things.

I think the first step is to decide on a color palette that I really like, that the Husband can tolerate, and go from there.  I think if we were having a boy, I'd try really hard to put my influence into the room to keep it from being overly masculine.  Therefore, I think it is important to put some gender-neutral influences into the room so Husband is not completely left out.  Ideally, I'd like to take some of our interests and early influences and put these into the room. 

I really like the idea of putting wedding pictures in the room, maybe even a maternity session-- if we get around to that.  I have seen some really cool, and cheap, art installations that I'd also like to incoportate with sewing hoops, fabric and cheap picture frames.  I'd include pictures, but I'd like to avoid getting lost in Google Images and online bulletin boards... I did that most of last night.

But at least I've got a start...  and that is so much better than nothing.

Adventures in Maternity Clothing...

My sister suggested that I buy a Belly Band because her friend really liked using one when she was pregnant.  And of course I was really not excited about wearing a stretchy waist band around my midsection when I was basically flat stomached for the first 13 weeks or so.  I had it in my mind that a belly band would be 1) uncomfortable, 2) hot, 3) restrictive... and I could go on.

But when I realized that finding maternity shorts that didn't look like camp counselor shorts was going to be next to impossible, the idea of wearing a belly band as a method to hold up my regular skinny girl shorts wasn't such a bad idea. I bit the bullet this past Saturday as the temperature and the humidity quickly rose above 105 degrees.

The majority of maternity shorts come in three exciting camp counselor colors:  khaki, black, and white.  Many of them are cargo in nature.  Apparently, not just cute, trendy, sophistocated little girls like me get pregnant, but so do out-dated, frumpy, utility workers as well... utility workers that would want camp counselor shorts.
There are some maternity shorts that come in fun colors-- but many of those are colored jean shorts, colored jean shorts with cuffed bottoms... and I don't wear cuffs or jean shorts.

So the belly band is holding up my shorts for me... my unbuttoned and sometimes unzipped shorts and suprisingly I'm loving it.  Being able to wear my normal clothing makes me very happy.

On the opposite end of the dressing field-- my upper half---I really like the maternity tee shirts.  They have this handy little gathered side that seems add a little interest to a plain tee-shirt and emphasize the ever-present, ever-growing baby bump in a nice way.

So to wrap-up, I would recommend a belly band, especially if you find yourself pregnant during the hottest part of summer and the only alternative is camp counselor shorts and you aren't down with the khaki, white and/or black color choices... and really want to wear your normal clothing.